


Planetarium

by ElCompositor



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Ending, And these ineffable idiots have to fix it somehow, Armageddon is Happening, M/M, Please I'm really not good at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 10:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElCompositor/pseuds/ElCompositor
Summary: This is the story of something that never happened.It never happened because, once upon a time, a very clever demon stopped time just long enough for a clever boy from Tadfield come up with a plan. And that plan averted Armageddon, for a while at leastBut this was not promised time. When a game this complicated is played in the dark with a dealer who cheats, well, the smallest of errors can change the outcome entirely.Our story begins at the start of the day that never happened, as that clever little boy utters “COME AND SEE”, old friends abandoned as his new friends come to follow him to the end of the world.Or, more accurately, it begins in an apartment in central London where, at that same moment, Crowley the very clever demon is lying on his back on the floor, drunker than he’s ever been before, holding a charred book of prophecies loosely against his chest, muttering to … Someone.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Planetarium

This is the story of something that never happened.

It never happened because, once upon a time, a very clever demon stopped time just long enough for a clever boy from Tadfield come up with a plan. And that plan averted Armageddon, for a while at least, gave the world another few millennia to spin around its sun, until Somebody sends another Son. Whose Son it is who is coming next, at this point, is still a point of significant contention.

But this was not promised time. When a game this complicated is played in the dark with a dealer who cheats, well, the smallest of errors can change the outcome entirely. If certain angels had arrived back on earth just a little bit later, for example; or if that clever little boy from Tadfield hadn’t been friends with a cleverer little girl whose mother taught her never to concede to bullies, especially when they’re boys; or perhaps, if a certain demon hadn’t loved his angel enough to plunge into a burning building right in time to save a certain precious book; then the world most certainly would have ended that day.

And that is where our story begins – at the start of the day that never happened, as that clever little boy, his mind overruled by the depths of his nature, with nobody left to save him from himself, utters “ _COME AND SEE”_ , old friends abandoned as his new friends come to follow him to the end of the world.

Or, more accurately, it begins in an apartment in central London where, at that same moment, Crowley the very clever demon is lying on his back on the floor, drunker than he’s ever been before, holding a charred book of prophecies loosely against his chest [1], muttering to … Someone.

“You couldn’t let me have this one thing?” he slurs up at the ceiling, or perhaps beyond it, “You took everythin’ else millennia ago, and now, this one good thing I’d buil- mmnk - we’d built for ourselves, yuh had to take that ‘way too, huh?” He can feel the end of the world approaching – it feels surprisingly similar to indigestion. “Guess it don’ matter much now. Nobody’s gonna have anythin’ once this is all over,” He points vaguely up, “Is that what you want, eh? Nobody to have anythin’ except you?” 

_Crowley?_

He’d never admit it to anyone, but Crowley has to stifle a sob at that moment, hand flying to cover his mouth as his mind conjures the voice of his friend unbidden, as clear as if he’d been standing right there. “Aziraphale, why’d you have to leave me here alone?” he asks the room.

_Look, it wasn’t terribly convenient for me either. **[2]**_

His brow wrinkles. “Wot?”

_Crowley are you drunk?_

“Are you _real_?” Crowley counters, sitting up and looking around his mysteriously spinning apartment.

_Well of course I’m real, what else would I be?_

He stammers for a moment, brain trying to catch up through a haze of alcohol, “Where are you?” he finally asks, standing up unsteadily to look around.

_Good question, not certain. Never done this before… I’m suppose I’m not really anywhere; I’ve been discorporated._

Crowley sobers up a bit, and as the rest of the room stops moving, he is able to see a delicate, wavering figure just barely visible in his doorway. A lame “Ah,” is all he can think of to say, the rest of his mind still loading.

_Did you…. Did you go to Alpha Centauri?_

“Nah, changed my mind. Stuff happened…. I lost my best friend.”

_… So sorry to hear it….. Ah, listen, back at my bookshop there’s a book I need you to get –_

“Oh Angel…. Angel it’s too late. It’s already started, can’t you feel it?”

_No Crowley listen, I’ve worked it all out. I know where it’s going to happen, I know who the boy–_

“He’s already set everything into motion. He and the Four have started their ride, from wherever they are, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We were too slow, Aziraphale.” He rests his now pounding head against the wall, alcohol and apocalypse taking their toll. 

_So that’s it then?_ Aziraphale’s ephemeral voice seems to get even smaller, _After all this time we just have to… give up?_

“Not sure what else we can do.”

A long silence stretches between them, as the light from the windows gradually dims, impossibly dark clouds rolling in over the city. _Well, then. I suppose we’ll both … well. I’m not sure my side is going to be too pleased with me when I get back. You don’t think your side would offer asylum, do you?_

Crowley can’t tell if it’s a joke, “I was just about to ask you the same thing”.

At that moment, two things happen simultaneously. The first is that every nuclear weapon on the planet launches, and as a result every device vaguely resembling an air raid siren begins to scream. The second is that the hosts of Heaven and Hell all lean forward, poised to strike, and the pressurized Armageddon that has been building pops, sending a wave of _something indescribably bad_ through Crowley’s body, something that drags him to his knees, gasping.

 _Crowley!_ Though Aziraphale can’t see his friend very well, he can tell that something’s wrong, _What’s happening?_

“It’s really starting” he’s not sure how he knows, “The nukes just launched, angel.”

Aziraphale makes a tutting noise, _I can’t believe they’re actually going with nuclear annihilation, it’s a bit cliché_.

“ _Not now angel”_ Crowley snarls, pulling himself back to his feet with an effort, “We have to do something.”

_What do you mean ‘do something’? Didn’t you just say it’s too late?_

“I did, but I don’t want it to be”. He begins to pace agitatedly across the room, glaring at various plants as if they might have answers. They don’t, and are all the more frightened for it. When the idea strikes, he claps his hands and lunges back towards Aziraphale’s hazy form, “We miracle them away.”

_What?!_

“You heard me.”

_But don’t be absurd, Crowley, that’s a miracle on a gargantuan scale!_

“You’re the guardian of the eastern gate and I’m the demon who first tempted humanity. If anyone can do it, it’s us. Together.”

_I don’t know Crowley. Maybe it really is unstoppable, for a reason._

“Don’t start.”

_Maybe this is all just part of The Plan._

“And maybe it’s not.”

_You never know, what with it all being-_

“Ineffable, I remember.” Crowley wishes he could grab Aziraphale by his shoulders and stare right into his eyes, try to force some sense into him by sheer willpower, “But if there really is some Great, Ineffable Plan, from _Her_ , don’t you think that anything we do must fall into it?”

 _…I don’t understand_.

“If we try and we fail, then great, that little part of the plan becomes very effable. But if we succeed, doesn’t that have to have been part of the plan all along?” When Aziraphale doesn’t respond, he pushes on “Don’t you want to save the world?”

_Of course I do._

“Then why won’t you?”

_Because if it doesn’t work…_

“If it doesn’t work, what?”

_Crowley…_

“We have to try.”

Crowley’s voice breaks slightly as he speaks, and it cuts Aziraphale to his core. The unspoken truth that if the world ends, they will likely never see each other again lives in that break. Aziraphale opens, then closes his incorporeal mouth. Opens it again. _Well, I’ll need a body – awful hard to do serous miracles when you can’t even plant your feet, as it were_.

Crowley’s heart drops, “We don’t have time, angel.”

_Well, we’re going to have to find time._

“We have _seconds_.”

Aziraphale, who had already been slipping away through the ether in search of a willing host, skids to a metaphorical stop. _I could use yours_.

Crowley is sure he misheard. “Wot.”

_It isn’t ideal, I know, but it’ll be quicker than finding someone, especially now with all the hubbub-_

“An angel and a demon in one body is a recipe for disaster.”

_It only has to hold for a few seconds, just long enough to work the miracle._

“I’ve had this corporation for 6000 years!”

 _Are we in a hurry or not?_ The air raid sirens grow louder, a faint whistling noise filling in the very few sonic gaps left. For the humans of the earth, it is a deafening cacophony.

Crowley takes one last good look at his human form, then lets out something between a sigh and a snarl, “ _Fine”_ and stretches out a hand towards Aziraphale.

Bodies, even ones woven by angels (or demons, as the case may be), are really only meant to hold one person. Sometimes, you can sneak in one person _and_ one angel, if you happen to have some practice with the right kind of mental stretches. But two angels (or an angel and a former-angel) is altogether to many for one physical form, especially when the nature of their essences repel one another violently. As soon as Aziraphale’s ghostly form zips into his fingertips, Crowley can feel the seams of his body starting to strain, a burning sensation starting in the heart and rapidly lancing through veins, bones, ligaments, skin. “Ready angel?” He asks through gritted teeth, already raising his hand as his mind races outwards towards the thousands of missiles plummeting towards the earth.

“Ready,” Aziraphale’s voice replies through Crowley’s lips. As one, two minds controlling a single hand, they snap.

Though generally thought of as some kind of untouchable magic, miracles do in fact involve energy. Exactly how and how much depends on the miracle, but almost without exception, some energy has to go somewhere to make something happen. The amount of energy required to instantaneously transport several thousand nuclear weapons to a safe distance from the earth is truly tremendous[3]. And it is certainly more than a corporeal form already struggling to hold two angelic (or quasi-angelic) beings can safely channel. Milliseconds post-snap, that form ruptures spectacularly. Not satisfied to simply leave a disgusting, gory mess worthy of any horror movie[4], atoms themselves fragment, ironically releasing a fairly massive burst of radiation. Miraculously, most of that radiation is absorbed by the walls and vanishes. The remainder is absorbed by some thoroughly put out plants

From that ruptured body, two incorporeal beings are flung violently in opposite directions, limbs and wings (or their incorporate equivalent) flailing in a vain attempt to gain control over their careening path through the many dimensions of spacetime. It is rather like trying to use your own arms and legs to control a full speed supersonic jet, i.e. not very effective. Fortunately, though the universe is boundless, it does tend to turn in on itself eventually, and so despite all the odds, when entropy has finally worn down enough of their speed to make their frantic flailing effective, they end up only a few miles and dimensions from where they started, having come all the way around, so to speak. 

Crowley, who hasn’t been bodyless in a very long time, shudders with discomfort. _Alright you bastard where are you?_

_Really Crowley there’s no need for that kind of language._

_You just exploded my body._

We _just exploded your body. It was your idea._

 _No, it was my idea to save the world, it was_ your _idea to use my body to do it._

_Well, did you have a better idea?_

_Shut up._

Each of them silently wishes that the other still had a body so that they could see the begrudgingly fond smiles that would surely be lingering on their faces.

 _So, did it work?_ Aziraphale asks, phasing back and forth through space, time, and dimensions to try and find the one containing the earth.

Crowley, on the other hand, can still feel the fundamental tether between him and the entity formerly known as Adam Young, and uses it to pull him straight back to the right place. He looks around, peering at the world as if through a waterfall, listening to the muffled, distorted sound of… sound. _Seems like. Too many people alive and whining for nuclear obliteration **[5]**. _

_Oh thank goodness. It really would have been a shame to ruin a perfectly good body for no reason._ Despite having no blood, Aziraphale blushes bright red, _Er, you know. Inconvenient. And also the world would have been destroyed, which would of course also be a… a negative._

Crowley isn’t paying enough attention to notice that Aziraphale is flustered. _Don’t get too excited._ _This isn’t going to hold things up for long. He’s still riding with The Four, and they won’t stop ‘till everything’s gone._ He winces _, In fact, if he felt like it I bet he could just bring those missiles right back._

 _And now neither of us has a body._ Aziraphale frowns. _Where on earth are we going to get_ two _bodies? We can’t just commandeer someone else’s for the long term._

_Why not?_

_Crowley!_

_Okay, fine! Wouldn’t fit right anyway._ He swirls around a bit, already missing the grounding bounded-ness of a physical form. _Well, there’s only one other place to get them._

 _I know._ If they could, would have shared a nervous look. _I’m not looking forward to that particular meeting._

_They’re not going to be happy that we delayed their war._

_They’re not going to be happy about a lot of things._

_So then, what, we just float around in nothing forever?_

_Well, not forever._ Aziraphale shifts uncomfortably, _Probably only until they find us and ah, you know._

_Right._

_…I mean, how angry could they be, really? It’s not like I was_ never _coming back, I just needed to, uh, pop out for a quick errand or two. I wasn’t_ deserting _…. And surely they’ll understand about the whole averted nuclear disaster thing, there really are much better and more creative ways to start a war…_

 _Wait, you think_ your _people were responsible for all that?_

_The Metatron mentioned it, yes._

_Well that’s funny because word downstairs was that it was our idea._ A fragment of an idea starts tapping away inside Crowley’s mind[6].

 _Well it can’t be_ both _sides’ idea, can it?_

 _Why not? They’re itching for a war, maybe at this point they don’t care how they get it._ The idea is tapping louder now. He strains to make out what he presumes is morse code of some kind.

_What a discouraging thought – if we just thwarted both sides’ plan, then we both got it wrong by definition._

“Snap!” goes the idea as, fully formed, it slots firmly into place. _That’s it!_ Crowley exclaims, his sudden enthusiasm almost sending Aziraphale lurching back into a folded up dimension in surprise.

_What’s ‘it’?_

If he still had a face, Crowley would be grinning his most clever, wicked grin. _Angel, we’re getting our bodies_ and _our planet back._

* * *

“You must have some nerve,” Gabriel says, eyebrows raised, as Aziraphale appears back in Heaven, “showing up here after what you did.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Aziraphale adjusts his waistcoat, glad to have some semblance of form now that he’s back on home turf. However, his (poor) façade of calm fractures almost immediately as angels, armed to the teeth[7] and bearing some heavy duty chains step around Gabriel and begin to advance on him. “Gabriel wait, I can explain everything.”

“You do a lot of explaining,” Gabriel notes, and it isn’t a positive, “and very little acting.”

“Well now, Beelzebub, that isn’t entirely true,” Crowley counters, backing away from the demons who look a little too pleased to be there, “You’ve read my reports, I get up to lots of trouble. It’s not my fault you lot don’t keep up to date enough to understand it.”

“Yeh? Well I’ll tell ya what I do understand,” Beelzebub replies, leaning forward from their throne, “I understand that you somehow managed to ruin our war even with our Master’s Son in the midst of his ride.”

“Me?” Crowley exclaims, outrage dripping from his voice despite the fact that he is still steadily retreating, “No, look, you’ve all got it confused again-“

“No more lies, Aziraphale.” Gabriel commands, and the angel gulps. His would-be captors have him almost against a wall now, and he doesn’t think those chains come off once they go on[8]. “It’s over.”

“But I’m not lying!” Aziraphale lies. _Or perhaps it’s only a half lie_ , he comforts himself. “Listen, it wasn’t me, it was Crowley!”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, “Crowley? The demon? Why would he do something like that, if he even could. He’s a demon, he wants to see the world destroyed.”

 _And so do you, so where does that leave things?_ Aziraphale thinks, but only says, “He’s grown… sentimental. Earth reminds him a little bit of Heaven, and, well. Can you blame him for not wanting to lose what little connection he has left to…” Aziraphale glances upwards, making a little shrugging motion.

“We traced the miracle right back to you,” Gabriel persists, but there’s a tiny bit of doubt in his incredulity. It’s almost undetectable, but it’s there.

“Ah, of course,” Aziraphale says, as if the thought is only now occurring to him, “I see where the misunderstanding is now. You see, when I went back down to earth-“

“Deserted.”

“-I went without a body, so my influence was limited. But, when I found out what Crowley was trying to do, I knew I had to try to stop him, so I forced my way into the same corporation as him…”

“… and I just sucked him right up into my body.” Crowley mimes the action, somewhat absurdly, using the bravado to cover shuddering nerves. He hopes none of them are clever enough to realize that, strictly speaking, that’s not quite how things work, but he doubts any of them have tried it. “I thought that would keep him from finishing his miracle, y’know, distract him. It almost worked.” He shrugs as nonchalantly as possible, “But y’know Aziraphale. Him and I have been tooth and claw since the beginning. Fang and sword, whatever.”

“I-It’s really only the fact that I’m so familiar with him that let me get even close to stopping him,” Aziraphale concludes, eyes darting from Gabriel’s violet gaze, to the chain bearers, and back repeatedly. “Next time could just as easily go, ah, go the other way, you see.”

“Oh yeah? Then what made it go his way this time?”

“Er, well. A certain commanding officer rather insisted on holding me up to berate me for losing track of, er, a few items he’d lent me. If I’d left a bit earlier, I might have managed it.”[9]

Gabriel glares for a moment more, then holds up a hand. The armed angels freeze, then retreat, leaving Aziraphale alone, back pressed up to cold glass. He takes a shaky breath and a relieved step forward, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the tremors.

“So what are you suggesting?” Beelzebub asks, eyes still filled with suspicion.[10]

“Primarily, I’m suggesting you don’t kill me.”

“For mucking up.”

“For nearly not mucking up,” Crowley corrects, “And, for the fact that I’m the only one who’s got any chance of outwitting him in the future.”

Beelzebub considers him for a moment more, then scowls. “Fine. But don’t think this means all is forgiven Crowley. There’s still Hell to pay when you get back here.” The demons who had been brought to destroy him start filing out, looking extremely annoyed and disappointed.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Crowley replies with a grin. Behind his sunglasses, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

[1] You didn’t really think there was a version of this story where Crowley didn’t love Aziraphale enough, did you? It was just a hypothetical, obviously. The world is ending for some other obscure reason I’m sure.

[2] Ah, so that’s why the world’s ending. I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation for being late…

[3] Funny enough, preventing the destruction of the world requires almost as much energy as creating it from scratch.

[4] Or 85% of the rooms in Hell.

[5] One of the people who is alive and not whining is Madame Tracy. The earth’s brush with annihilation had occurred just as she was reaching the high point of a séance, and there’s nothing like a deafening cacophony to really make it seem like you’re in touch with the spirit world (or indeed, to actually bring you close to being extremely intimate with the spirit world).

[6] A not insignificant accomplishment, considering they are in a quasi-space without the capacity for true sound.

[7] Sometimes quite literally – you wouldn’t believe the contraptions they’ve had time to come up with after 6000 years of brainstorming.

[8] Incidentally, this is an incorrect assumption. They must necessarily come off if one is to plunge down to Hell. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be much of a Fall from grace, and more of an Awkward Hang from grace.

[9] He would have managed a fair bit more, in fact, but that’s a different story. I told you he had a good excuse.

[10] Then again, Beelzebub’s eyes are always filled with suspicion, so this is less telling than it might at first seem.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's a bit of an outrageous premise, and I'm definitely rewriting the rules a little bit here. But I had fun with the idea in my brain so hopefully you will also have fun with it.  
> Thanks for reading! This is chapter 1 of a longer story that currently only has a very vague shape. If y'all enjoy this, please let me know, cuz that will give me the incentive to actually plan out a sensible plot :)


End file.
